


All In

by HurricanErin



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Hiddlefic, Jaguar "British Villains" Commercial, The Night Manager (TV), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Arms Dealing, BAMF Heroine, BAMF Women, BAMFs in General, Bespoke Suits, Cartels, Dubious Consent, Ex-Syrian Intelligence, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Forced Pregnancy, Forced Relationship, Gratuitous Smut, Jaguars, Kidnapping, Kingpins, London Underworld, Nepotism, Oral Sex, Organized Crime, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Secret Intelligence Service | MI6, Sexual Coercion, Syrian OFC, Terrorism, The Night Manager - Freeform, Undercover, Villain Tom Hiddleston, War, Women Being Awesome, crime syndicate, racketeering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-06-13 21:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15373338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HurricanErin/pseuds/HurricanErin
Summary: Running with an organized crime syndicate was never the plan, but we don't choose our surrogate fathers.  Crime boss Ben Kingsley took a young Thomas Hiddleston under his care and raised him to oversee the arms empire he built.  In his old age, Kingsley has come to terms with the fact that his biological legacy is over, but wants his empire to live on through Thomas and the Hiddleston name.  Kingsley requires an heir of Thomas.  As with all his assignments, Thomas sets to task with a stiff upper lip and a ruthless approach.  Lord help the unsuspecting woman he selects as his prey.As mentioned in the tags, this story deals with terrorism, torture and war.  The plot is based off of real events.  Please don't read if that bothers you.





	1. Prologue: Passenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one time we got told what's up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: torture, murder

The crack of breaking bone split the silence of a small, dim room.  Three men occupied the space, one with a now-slack jaw.  He sat duct taped to a folding chair, eyes swollen shut, molars plucked out and lip split open.  The second man sported raw knuckles, his other fist clutching a serrated dagger.  Casually he wiped the blade on the first man’s pant leg, ridding it of blood.

The third leaned his shoulder against the cool cinderblock wall, boredly tapping at his phone’s screen.  He ignored the scene five feet from his person as his employee eased the knife between the ribs of the restrained man, instead checking the syndicate’s HSBC Bank accounts.  The cartel transactions should’ve been complete and he set his jaw as he reviewed them.  After a moment, he let out a subtle sigh.  Despite the breach of information earlier that afternoon, their assets were secure and the arms payments had gone through.

“Sir?”

Eyes flicking to the pair of men, the third blinked in question.

“I got the names, did we need anything else?”

“No, that will be all.”  The third man regretfully nodded to the first.  “Goodbye, Franklin.”

The restrained man lacked the awareness to plead for his life.  His head merely dropped forward in resignation as the silencer pressed against his temple.  The wet noise of a bullet penetrating flesh and bone sounded and he went limp.

Kicking a stray piece of matter from his gleaming Oxford, the third man turned and exited the tiny room.  Scaling several flights of stairs, he emerged into a finely decorated conservatory, then made his way to a bald gentleman seated near the fireplace with a book spread over his lap.

“Sir,” he nodded, taking the chair next to him.

The older man glanced up and removed his glasses. “Thomas,” his eyes crinkled with a smile.  “How was it?”

“Uneventful.  He told us everything we needed to know.  I’ll have my men clean up the loose ends tonight.”

“That’s my boy,” he patted the younger man’s shoulder.

Considering the reaction the praise garnered the elder man, he may as well have kicked Thomas in the teeth.  Beyond stoic, Thomas merely bent his head in acknowledgement.

“Is there anything else you need from me?”

“There is, actually.”

Closing the book, the senior of the two waved his hand at the troupe of men and two women playing cards in the corner of the room.

“Out, all of you.”

The henchmen muttered their goodbyes, exiting as a pack as Thomas turned to the man in the chair.  If possible, the younger gentleman looked even more severe.

“Ben, what’s happened?”

“Thomas,” Ben chuckled, “Relax.  Can’t I speak to you privately without there being a pressing emergency or betrayal?”

Thomas forced the corners of his mouth to turn up.  New job assignments were nothing, but this seemed different.  Something about the sparkle in Ben’s eye indicated this was more than work.  “Of course, I just—.”

Ben paused and frowned, taking notice of the purple smudges under Thomas’ eyes and his wan complexion.  “Assuming my position as head of the organization is taking a toll on you,” he sighed. 

Thomas’ spine stiffened.

Ben shook his head and held up a hand.  “I’m not concerned.  You’ll grow accustomed to it.  It becomes easier to bear with time.”

“I—,” started Thomas, quick to defend his capabilities before his mentor until thinking better of contradicting him.  Though they were alone and the two were close, he still treated Ben with respect.  “Yes, sir.”

Ben laughed on an exhale.  “Always so proper, Thomas.”

“You say that as if you didn’t put me through Eton,” Thomas said with a small smile.

“Well said,” chuckled the older man.  “You can take the boy out of boarding school, but not boarding school out of the boy.  Not that fine establishment.  There you and Edmund were royalty.  Mischievous, rambunctious royalty, but royalty.  The memories you two made, the brotherhood you had…”

The men shared a melancholy smile.

After a moment, Thomas looked away and Ben cleared emotion from his throat.  “We need to talk, you and I.  I have a new assignment for you.  A special one.”

Again, Thomas grew rigid.

“Relax,” Ben waved his hand.  “Relax.  There are aspects of this job you may… enjoy.”

Often more quiet than not, Thomas watched Ben carefully, waiting for him to continue.

The elder considered the younger for a minute.  “I’m getting old, you know.  And with my Edmund gone…,” he sighed, propping an elbow on the chair arm and resting his chin on his hand, “My line is finished.”

Thomas’ chest grew tight.  Very few things affected the newly crowned King of the London Underworld, though the death of his dear friend still prompted a reaction.

“But my legacy isn’t over, not with you taking over.”  Ben steepled his fingers and paused, examining the younger man.  

Thomas fought to relax his brow as Ben watched him in silence.

“I want security.  Insurance, in a way.”

The younger man cocked his head.

“Grandchildren, Thomas.  I want to die knowing this organization has a future.  I’ve worked my entire life for this organization.  My son _gave_ his life for this organization.  We deserve to live on through our family, biological or not.”

When Thomas paled, the older man laughed.  “Don’t look so glum!  They’re just children.  Father them and be finished with it.  I want you to have a family to access down the line; heirs.  You don’t have to marry the girl, whoever she ends up being.  She can be a whore, for all I care.  Just get her with child.  We’ll find the best nanny in Europe to raise them here.  It would do me good to have some young ones running around.”

Thomas fought to keep his groomed eyebrow from raising.  A child?  Brought up in this environment?  Considering the nature of their work?  He lied and killed for a living.  He manipulated and stole and murdered. 

“Ben, are you su—?”

“Positive.  I’ve given this quite a bit of thought.  Were Edmund alive, I’d be asking this of him.  But he’s not.  You’re just as much my son, and the responsibility falls on you.  I know it’s not your choice, and I apologize for that.”

Thomas licked his lower lip and nodded, surveying the other man.  Fighting for composure, he cleared his throat, “Is there a timeframe?”

  
"I think a year is reasonable  A child in my arms in twelve months.”

Thomas bit the tip of his tongue and nodded.  “Yes, sir.  It’ll be done.”

Ben’s eyes shown with relieved satisfaction.  “I believe it.  Now, do you have a woman in mind?”

Taken aback, Thomas shook his head.  “There have been a few over the years, some of whom you’ve known.  None of them suitable.  Marissa is a model, she’d rather consume butter than compromise her figure with a pregnancy.  Elizabeth, the heiress, married two years ago and Nell, the actress, has several new contracts, the last I heard.  She’ll be busy with projects for the next few years.  As for the others, I don’t recall many names, if I’m honest…”

“I see.  You’ll find someone, I’m sure of it.  Like I said, there’s no need for marriage unless you desire it.  Have the children and discard her, if you choose.”  He rubbed his chin.  “In fact, if you choose not to marry, perhaps a low profile, disposable girl is ideal.  Someone you can easily control.”

Thomas nodded, rising to pour himself a finger of bourbon.  He downed the beverage in one drink, the liquid courage providing him with the fortitude to meet Ben’s gaze.  “I won’t let you down.”


	2. Get Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one time with the gin.

As she stepped out of the cab, Naima cringed at her reflection in the compact mirror.  She felt cheap as she fixed her smeared lipstick.  Though she hadn’t actually slept with the Attorney General, she had let him kiss and grope her after their meal.  There was an unwritten agreement between the two:  Naima entertained Graham Poole on a bi-weekly basis, and in return he struck down any indictment that so much as alluded to Thomas Hiddleston, his people, or Jaguar.

Shuddering at the memory of Graham’s hands on her, she unlocked the door to her flat.  With a heavy sigh she dropped her coat and purse on a chair and wandered into her kitchen.  The kettle sang as she plopped a chamomile teabag into a cup, then filled it with steaming water. 

Snagging a stool, she stood on her tiptoes to open a cupboard above the refrigerator.  She dismounted with a bottle of gin in hand and kicked the bench away, unscrewing the cap.  After dumping a hearty amount of alcohol into her steeping tea, she took a long draw from the bottle.  Wincing at the taste and wiping her mouth, she clamored back onto the chair to stash the drink.

As she reached, she was pinned against the refrigerator from behind.  She shrieked, dropping the alcohol and trying to turn.

“Let me, darling.”

The towering form pressed behind her caught and stowed the bottle in the cupboard, then lifted her off the stool.

“What are you doing in my home?” she growled, the alcohol-fueled bloom of warmth in her belly loosening her tongue.  She knew by the warm, woodsy cologne that her boss stood behind her.  She whirled and smacked his chest.  “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“We need to talk, Naima.”

She shoved away from Thomas and snatched her tea from the counter, glaring at him over the rim of the cup as she sipped.

“You have no right to be here.  We’re sleeping together, we’re not in a relationship.  Give me the key you had made.  Clearly you have one.”

Ignoring her, he leaned back against the counter and crossed an ankle over the other.  “You need to stop giving my men trouble.”

“Then they need to stop threatening witnesses that will never step foot inside a courtroom.  Poole won’t allow it, not with the deal he and I have.  know it’s how you’re used to running things—.”

Thomas’ eyes narrowed.  “What kind of ‘deal’ do you have with the Attorney General?”

She broke his gaze as her cheeks flushed slightly.  “Just an, um, agreement.  I meet with him and he eliminates accusations connected to your name.”

“You _meet_ with him?  And what, discuss the weather?”

“We have dinner.”

She held her breath as understanding crossed his face.  Thomas slowly closed the distance between them and brushed her hair over her shoulder, his fingers dropping to caress the exposed skin of her neck.

“You’re whoring yourself out to protect me and mine?” he murmured, “Why, my dear, you’re worth every penny.” 

The _crack_ of her palm striking his cheek sounded before she realized what she’d done.  Gasping in horror, she clapped her hand over her mouth.

“I didn’t mean that,” she whispered.

Thomas rubbed his jaw, his fingers brushing over the hot red print appearing on his face.  Eyes cold as ice, he wet his lip and took three steps forward, backing her against the kitchen counter.  As he studied her, she was certain her heart was going to catapult from her chest. 

“Do you know how many people in this city are terrified of me?” he whispered, trailing a finger down her cheek233.  “How many people in the _world_ shudder at hearing my name?”

She forced herself not to lean away.  “Of course I do.  I’m sorry—.”

“Why are they terrified of me, Naima?”

The woman breathed a curse in Arabic when he uttered her name.  Despite her hammering heart, a subtle, dull ache began to throb between her legs.  She damned him for being so painfully attractive, even when he was on the brink of snapping her neck.  Swallowing hard, she stared at his chest, afraid she’d crumble if they made eye contact.

“Because you’re powerful.  You’re lethal.  Brutal.  You have command over people who can orchestrate awful things and make them look like accidents.  You have a company and the resources to kill and torture at will, without consequence.  You lack a conscience.”  Her eyes flitted to his.  “Are those reasons sufficient?”

If he was going to kill her for hitting him, she might as well lay it all out in hopes he’d do it quickly.  She didn’t know how much more adrenaline her body could handle. 

Naima closed her eyes while his fingers found their way into her dark curls.  He considered her for a moment, eyes locked on his hand as he pulled his fingers through her waves.  Goosebumps broke out on her skin, but she managed to quell a tremble.

“Such audacity,” he murmured, his lips twitching.  God, he loved a challenge, especially after a week filled with cordial, demure dates where women fawned over him.   Naima never fawned, and never failed to impress.

“Around the globe, all of these people fear me.”  He tightened his hand in her hair and forced her eyes on his.  “Many won’t even look me in the eye as we pass on the street.  Yet you… you don’t hesitate to raise a hand to me.”

Naima bit her cheek to keep from whining as his fingers squeezed her mane.

“Why should I allow that?  Why do you deserve to take another breath?”

Her wide eyes met his. 

“Because-because I’m your barrister.”  She cleared her throat and raised her chin.  “Because I’m the single person keeping you and your syndicate out of the English newspapers and prison system.  And, I keep the International Criminal Court from gaining traction on any leads regarding your organization.  You need me.”  That her voice didn’t shake was a testament to her power to swindle a courtroom.

He considered her, his eyes flicking back and forth between hers.  After a moment, he exhaled in amusement.

“Such a talker, you are.”  The back of his knuckle grazed her cheek. 

She glowered as the invisible band restricting her chest released.  He wasn’t going to kill her.  Not yet, anyway.  Not today.

Thomas’ eyes roamed her face, his stare unnerving her.  She tried to ignore the heat of his body as the blue in his eyes slowly disappeared, leaving them an inky black.  Pressing his hips forward, he used his pelvis to pin her against the counter.  She grunted in surprise, noting the erection pressing against her stomach.  Bracing her hands against his chest, she scoffed and shook her head.

“I-I struck you!  One of your subordinates just accosted you, and you’re _hard_?”

Face neutral, he circled his hips, rubbing himself against her.  “Are you really complaining, Naima?  Would you rather we return to the matter at hand?”

Naima’s breath caught in her throat and she looked away, her ruby red nails itching to dig into his skin.  Whether to push him away or pull him closer, she was unsure.

“This was supposed to stop,” she murmured as he peered down at her.

“What I like,” he whispered against her ear, “Is that you’re already using the past tense.  This _was_ supposed to stop.  You already know that opportunity has come and gone.” 

In an instant he hoisted her onto the counter, causing her to yelp and cling to is shoulders.  “You requested our dalliances cease.”  He sucked at her neck and her nipples hardened

without her permission.  “I, however, consented to no such arrangement, and an agreement requires two consenting…” his fingers slipped beneath the hem of her dress, rucking it up around her thighs, “…parties, doesn’t it?”

Chest rising and falling swiftly, Naima tried to focus on his words, but the warm muscles flexing beneath her fingers interfered with her cognitive capabilities.  She whimpered when he bit the shell of her ear and unconsciously hitched one leg around his waist.                                                   

She wanted to feel repulsed by his behavior.  As if the Attorney General’s handling her hadn’t been enough, she knew she should feel as if she were degrading herself by allowing Thomas to put his hands on her as well.  However, that knot of disgust she felt with Poole didn’t form in her stomach as her boss touched her.  It should’ve.  In fact, he was supposed to be more revolting than Graham.  Goodness knew the despicable, unforgivable things he did.

Naima interrupted her own thought sequence with a moan as Thomas rocked on his toes, grinding his clothed cock against her core.  She was about to tell him to stop when his fingers made their way beneath her panties and stroked along her slit.  The woman turned her face away when he smirked.

“You’re horrified that your hitting me turned me on, but you’re allowed to sit here with a wet little cunt after slapping me?  How is that fair, Naima?”

Her response died in her throat as he knocked her knees farther apart and cupped her sex.

“Exactly.  It’s not.  And I abhor double standards,” he purred against her ear.  Nuzzling her nose with his, he pressed a taunting, chaste kiss against her lips, then another.  Vaguely she recognized the sound of his belt buckle clinking and the feeling of his Boglioli wool trousers brushing against the inside of her thighs.  He yanked them just past his rear. 

All hope for stopping him was lost the second he properly sealed his lips against hers.  Naima moaned and cupped the back of his neck as he attacked her mouth, his tongue striking like an angry snake.  Her legs twined around his hips as she tried lifting herself against his hardness; it was a feat for him to wrestle them apart so he could pull his cock free. 

Naima couldn’t think, only act.  She briefly put up a fight when he untangled her, but once Thomas’ cock was free he wasted no time and slammed inside her, giving the poor girl a moment of respite.  He bit her lip as her walls clamped down, fighting the excruciatingly urgent need to come inside her.

Cradling her bent legs beneath his arms, Thomas hauled Naima closer and she grunted as he thrust in to the base.  For a moment their foreheads rested together, both of them panting heavily.  Naima was the first to recover, bucking her hips against his with a whine.  Thomas quickly followed, rearing back and beginning a punishing rhythm of clapping flesh.

His mouth was harsh and angry against hers, and Naima pulled away to pant for air as her spine began to tingle with pleasure.   Heat overwhelmed both of them in a frenzy, and Naima lost coherence several thrusts in.  She was swollen and painfully aroused, and as Thomas’ thick cock rubbed against her insides, she saw stars.  She keened, clutching at him as her cunt contracted, sending her hurtling towards an orgasm.  With a shriek she came, her velvet walls squeezing his pummeling length.  Thomas followed with a feral cry and emptied himself inside her with hurried pumps of his hips.

Once her pussy stopped clenching involuntarily, a sweaty Naima pushed Thomas away by the shoulders.  His mouth quirked as he pulled his softening cock from her warmth.  Gripping her chin, he kissed her soundly, then released her.  Stroking the material of her skirt, he pulled it back around her thighs.  His fingers dragged against her bare skin as he glanced up at her.

"Leave my men alone, Naima.  Do you understand?”

Naima ignored the goosebumps rising on her arms and legs, flipped her hair, sniffed and righted her panties.

“You can see yourself out,” she said as she jumped from the counter.

Thomas fought off a grin as he shrugged back into his suit jacket.  “Goodnight, Naima.”

 

Seated in the back corner of the Park Lane Four Seasons restaurant, Thomas leaned back in his chair.   Crossing an ankle over his knee, he half watched his entertainment for the evening.  The lovely woman across from him glowed as she chattered on about her family’s business.  Louisa, if he wasn’t mistaken. 

It was entirely possible he was mistaken; the array of women he had _interviewed_ over the past 9 days was a blur.  First there had been the women of stature; the socialites and debutantes, the Kuwaiti OPEC Secretary General’s daughter and the budding fashion designer fresh from catwalks of New York Fashion Week. 

Boring, all of them.  No different than the women that frequented Jaguar’s galas and fundraisers.  And difficult.  High maintenance, too high profile, just like Ben had said.  He’d expected the dramatics.  He’d dated women like them before, but not for a few years.  It was amazing how a little maturity could change one’s tastes so drastically.  Kingsley had been right to suggest against them.

Now he’d moved on to civilians.  A corporate lawyer who was so full of herself even Thomas felt nauseated, a chef, hairstylist and human relations director who were all pleasant enough, but not one fit what he was looking for.  None of them had the potential to mother the child of a criminal.

Fiddling with a cufflink, it took him a moment to realize the lilt of Louisa’s American accent had ceased.  He glanced up, shooting her an apologetic smile.

“What was that, darling?”

“I have to run to the ladies room, I’ll be right back,” she smiled.

Her smile was nice.  She was nice.  She’d dazzle a family Christmas card.

Too soft, though.  Were they together, even solely for the conception and birth of his child, Louisa could never have any idea the true nature of his work.  She’d be a flight risk, just like the women before her.  Thomas grit his teeth.  Having a female around was only going to make things messy, and that wasn’t taking into consideration possible hostage situations and the potential for extortion that accompanied having excess family members.

He sighed, signaling to the server that they were finished.  He’d take Louisa home with him, give her a ride and send her on her way.  If she was enjoyable in bed, he’d have Pete keep her number on hand.  If not, dismissing her was of no consequence to him.

Thomas plucked his phone from his pocket and pressed the side button.  His screen lit up, displaying a slew of texts.

 **P: <** She’s being difficult.

 **P: < **She’s threatening your men.

 **P: <** Sir, she won't listen.

 **P: <** She will no longer speak with me on the matter.  She’ll only to talk to you.

He sighed.  _She._

For a moment his mind wandered back to Louisa.  Willowy, tall.  Stunning.  A dancer at one point, she may have mentioned.  He knew none of that was enough.  It was never enough.  _She,_ on the other hand, always left him feeling quite sated.  Naima, his difficult Naima, was spirited and relentless to Louisa's demure and easy going.  She was fiery and proud and never afraid to voice her opinion.  Despite her obstinance, something in her begged to be tamed.  He loved the way her accent strengthened as she grew angry, how her dark, thick brows accented her expressions perfectly, the way her pink lips scowled at him… The need she created drove him wild.  Perhaps he’d pay her a visit when he finished with Louisa.

He typed out a response to Pete.

 **T: < **I’ll deal with her tomorrow.  Have her meet me at the Chigwell house.

 **P: < **Of course, sir.

Popping his phone back in his pocket, Thomas shot Louisa a charming smile as she returned from the restroom.

“Ready to go?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really trying to be a Classy Broad and hold off on the smut for a few more chapters, but here we are.


End file.
